


just a cold

by thanksroach (irnhero)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, traveling to Kaer Morhen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnhero/pseuds/thanksroach
Summary: Jaskier is fine.Or, he will be. The tickle in the back of his throat is just that: a tickle. Probably brought on by the cold and the dry air. He’ll get used to it on their way up the mountain and the tickle will disappear as quickly as it came (spoiler alert: it doesn't).
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	just a cold

**Author's Note:**

> i’m posting polished versions of some of my [febuwhump prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139258/chapters/71536530) on their own so they can have their time to shine; this was for the prompt, hiding injury (though this is more like hiding illness)

Jaskier is fine.

Or, he will be. The tickle in the back of his throat is just that: a tickle. Probably brought on by the cold and the dry air. He’ll get used to it on their way up the mountain and the tickle will disappear as quickly as it came. 

He feels a shiver down his spine and wraps his new fur-lined cloak more securely around himself. It’s still early morning, their last one in civilization before their trek begins. A week of bad road lay ahead, but at the end of it, a whole winter with Geralt. The first of many if Jaskier has anything to say about it. There’s no need to kick up a fuss with his tickled throat, not when Geralt would surely insist on a delay that could shut them out of the pass altogether. Jaskier is just fine.

“Ready?” Geralt asks with a small grin.

Jaskier sucks in a breath to reply, but it catches on that tickle in his throat, throwing him into a short fit of coughing. Geralt’s face twists into a concerned grimace and he tries to pat him on the back, but Jaskier holds an arm out to stop him.

“M’fine,” he rasps, but Geralt doesn’t look convinced. Jaskier pastes on a smile. “Really. Just caught on my own spit. I’m ready.”

Geralt gives him another skeptical once over, but he doesn’t press it. Jaskier’s tickle feels more like a scratch.

~

It’s three days before Jaskier admits to himself that he might have more than a tickle. 

Every morning he wakes with a new symptom. First, it’s the cough, returning every half-hour or so and leaving a soreness in his chest. Then it’s his breath, feeling short and unsatisfying to his lungs no matter how deep he tries to breathe (not too deep–that means more coughing). Then it’s chills, which he would have been happy to dismiss given the locale were it not for everything else.

Geralt is getting suspicious. He accepted Jaskier’s excuses about the steep incline and thin air, but when Jaskier shivers through the night wrapped in Geralt's arms with three furs on top of them and a fire going, Geralt seems less willing to go along. 

The fourth morning brings fever and Geralt’s last straw. Jaskier wakes with a chill settled deep in his bones and a Witcher looming over him with a scowl on his face.

“You’re sick,” Geralt grumbles, wiping at Jaskier’s sweaty brow with his sleeve.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier replies. Then he coughs for a good thirty seconds.

“How long have you been feeling ill?” Geralt’s worry is strikingly similar to his anger and Jaskier shrinks beneath it, guilt curling in his gut. 

“Just a few days.” At that, Geralt looks ready for a proper tirade and Jaskier is quick to placate him. “It’s just a cold, love. Honestly, I’ll be right as rain before we even reach the keep.”

Geralt is not convinced. “What are your symptoms?”

“Just the cough and the fever.” The lie sits heavily on Jaskier’s chest, but he doesn’t let himself regret it. Geralt might suggest that they rest a while in the cave, or worse, turn back and winter in town. Jaskier won’t be the reason Geralt misses wintering with his family. 

Geralt considers Jaskier’s response for a moment. “Just a cold?” he asks doubtfully.

“Just a cold,” Jaskier confirms, stifling another round of coughs and feeling his chest burn over it.

They leave the cave without any further fuss, but Jaskier can feel Geralt’s eyes linger on him all the while. It’s just a few more days. He’ll manage.

~

Jaskier is ready to drop by the time the keep finally comes into view. 

His limbs ache like he’s run a hundred miles and his shortness of breath has turned into all-out wheezing. He suspects the howl of the wind is the only thing keeping Geralt from hearing him. Every breath tears at his lungs and his heart is racing in his chest. 

Another bought of coughing seizes him and Jaskier has to stop, clutching his chest and willing it to pass. It finally drops off, but Jaskier can’t catch his breath. His head begins to spin and panic swirls in his stomach. He drops to his hands and knees right there in the snow, but it does no good.

He looks ahead through the flurry and sees Geralt, still leading Roach along the obscured path. Jaskier tries to call out, but his cry is cut off by more vicious coughing. His vision blurs. Then the world turns black.

~

Warmth is the first thing Jaskier is aware of. Warmth like a cocoon around him, weighing him down and bundling him tightly. His fingers twitch and he feels soft fur between them.

He opens his eyes. The brightness assails him for a moment, but he adjusts quickly and sees that it isn’t so bright after all. Just the light from a few candles and a large fireplace illuminating the room. It’s rather plain, the most imposing piece of furniture being the large bed in which he lies encased in a nest of furs. 

There’s a soft grunt from Jaskier’s side and he turns his head to see Geralt sat in a chair by the bed watching him. Glaring would be more accurate. Jaskier feels pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. There’s something uneasy in his eyes. Something hurt.

For once in their lives, it’s Geralt who speaks first. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

In a similarly uncharacteristic manner, Jaskier finds himself with no response. He shakes free of the blankets and sits up in bed, finding much more strength in him now than his last round of consciousness.

“You said it was a  _ cold _ , Jaskier. What were you thinking trying to climb a fucking mountain with pneumonia?”

Jaskier looks down at his lap and picks at the blanket, feeling very much like a chastised child. “I didn’t realize it was pneumonia before we started up the mountain,” he mutters.

“Then why didn’t you tell me when you did realize? Why did you wait until you collapsed in the snow and I had to come running back for you thinking you were–” Geralt cuts himself off before he can say it and turns away a moment to compose himself.

“I didn’t want you to make us turn back,” Jaskier admits, drawing Geralt’s gaze back to him. “I know how much you look forward to wintering here, I didn’t want to keep you from it.”

“You think I’d prefer having to bury you here?” asks Geralt.

Jaskier snaps his jaw shut and shudders at the image. Geralt lets out a deep sigh and rises from the chair to settle on the edge of the bed. He frames Jaskier’s face gently with his hands and pulls him in to press a long kiss to his forehead.

“I thought I lost you,” he mumbles into Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier feels his heart leap into his throat and all but falls forward into Geralt’s arms, shoving his face into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs weakly.

Geralt holds him tight and drops soft kisses onto his temple. “I know. Just… don’t ever do that again. Ever. Okay?”

Jaskier lets the familiar warmth and steadiness of Geralt’s embrace sink into his bones and breathes as deep as he can before the edges of a cough claw at his chest. Much deeper than before. He’s still exhausted and his body aches and he guesses the fever is still lingering. But he knows he’ll be alright. He has his Witcher to take care of him.

“Okay,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [tumblr](https://d-andilion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
